The Big Game
by Ember Nickel
Summary: For Welcome Home ficathon. Prompt: Gryffindor Quidditch team, "the kids are alright."


"Okay," Oliver stammered. "Okay."

"Men," Fred assisted.

"And women," said George.

"And Patricia."

"Er...is there...something we should know about Patricia? And she said she's not coming."

"Just cause she's new to the team and all," Fred shrugged, "doesn't know the usual spe-"

"She's not _coming_?" Oliver blurted.

"She...she said she doesn't really like flying all that much," Angelina shrugged. She had been the one trying to recruit her roommate onto the team eighteen hours prior, with patient explanations that come on, they were just third years, but this was her chance for the whole house to cheer her on. Alicia's contribution to this endeavor had consisted of distracting Oliver so he didn't try to apply his more impassioned logic where it would not have suited.

"And no one thought to recruit anyone else?"

"We're sort of out of time now," Alicia pointed out.

"_Okay,_" Oliver sighed, urgency slightly overtaking nerves. "This...this is..."

"This is _not _that big of a game," Katie interrupted, "the Seeker's in the hospital wing and-"

"What _happened_, anyway?" Angelina asked. "You said your brother knew?"

"Got attacked by Hagrid's dog, I think," Fred said confidently.

"Why would he be dealing with Hagrid's animals?" said Alicia.

"I heard he had to go to the forest for detention," said George, "maybe there's something there?"

"Maybe a werewolf attacked him, then. Is it full moon?"

"Nuh-uh," said Angelina over Katie's squeals, "and even if it was, they wouldn't keep a werewolf at school, they'd send him to St. Mungo's or somewhere."

"Maybe he got so worried about exams he got sick," said Katie.

"Pfft, he'd better not be faking it," said Fred, "that's a waste of a perfectly good toilet seat."

"Not perfectly good anymore though, is it?" George countered.

"I suppose-"

"Hello?" said Oliver. "Everyone. We...we have a chance, we just have to, just have to take the game to them. Chasers, we've been over this, short passes, don't overstretch yourselves. Um. You're, you're just going to have to run up the score."

"We know," said Angelina.

"All right. C'mon, then...let's...let's go and make Gryffindor proud."

* * *

"...of course still no sign of Harry Potter, latest theory is that he was shot by angry centaurs after-"

"Jordan, we do not malign our fellow magical creatures! Stick to the game at hand!"

"Right. Okay. A short effort from Johnson, intercepted by Irvine, still Irvine, a bludger from Weasley, and...another goal. Oliver Wood looking exhausted there as he goes after the Quaffle, the score now 440 to 70. Johnson a bit frustrated too, c'mon now Angelina, show us your pretty face-"

"Jordan, if you cannot provide _relevant _commentary-"

"Oh, sorry Professor, here, I've been er, scanning the record books for useful insight to put this match in historical perspective."

"Perhaps a bit more objectivity would be useful?"

"Right. Um. I don't want to jump to conclusions or anything-Ravenclaw in possession at the moment, as depressingly usual-but assuming that they manage to catch the Snitch and all, which is looking quite likely as they've got the only Seeker out there...the last time Gryffindor lost by five hundred points was a few months before the International Statute of Secrecy was passed."

"...Well. Yes. Perhaps we don't need quite so much trivia."

"I wholeheartedly agree. Oh, has Cockburn seen something...there's a dive-yes, she's found the Snitch! Lorraine Cockburn finally ends it, the final score Ravenclaw 590-utter _rubbish_"

"-Jordan-"

"-Gryffindor seventy."

* * *

"You blew up a toilet seat?" Angelina gaped.

"Sure," said Fred modestly, "nothing to it really, we've been planning this for a while."

"What if Filch finds out?"

"It isn't like he can tell who it is," Katie shrugged.

"It's _always _them."

"Well, we'll be out of here in a couple weeks anyway, won't we?" said George. "There's lots of toilets, nobody will know it's missing."

"We all know it's missing, though," Alicia noted.

Oliver closed his eyes and walked off. The good news was they were all two or three years younger than him. Just kids. They'd be fine, they were _already _fine, they didn't care.

The bad news, of course, was that they didn't care.

"Oy!" called Lee. "Hard luck today, mates."

"Have you heard anything more about Harry?" asked Katie. "McGonagall say anything?"

"No, except that none of my ideas were close."

"None?" blinked George. "I heard about two dozen, and that wasn't even counting the times when I had to tune you out to focus on the match."

"Yeah, well. A game goes that one-sided, you have to make _something_ up to pass the time."


End file.
